


Of Banquets, Bastards and Burials

by lee4nn



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Sex, Original Character(s), Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22458547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lee4nn/pseuds/lee4nn
Summary: “Well, if it’s Pavetta she’s after you better start telling me she’s of a large kingdom and a giant fucking army.”Geralt kept his eyes on Calanthe, but the blonde could feel his sight on her in his periphery. “I don’t think it’s Pavetta she's got her eye on.”
Relationships: calanthe fiona riannon/Orginal Female Character
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57





	Of Banquets, Bastards and Burials

_I do not own The Witcher or any of the characters involved in this story (except for my OC, Yara). I chose to gloss over Calanthe’s engagement to Eist because they seem really good together and truly in some sort of love and I didn’t want to make Calanthe cheat. You can choose to believe that the engagement happened or didn’t, up to you._

This wasn’t what Yara thought she’d be doing while accompanying Geralt of Rivia on his grand journeys. Standing in a banquet hall attending at royal engagement ceremony. All to do with Geralt’s fondness of that silly little musician. If you’re going to bed someone else’s wife, you’d better be prepared for the consequences. She was honestly surprised the bard had lasted this long.

Yara was brought out of her musings by Geralt striding further into the hall and she followed close behind, not speaking and not bothering to make much eye contact. The “royals” tended to be volatile, especially when intoxicated, and she wasn’t interested in working up a sweat tonight. A well-kept man with a grey beard approached gleefully, and Yara gathered from the conversation that Geralt and _Mousesack_ had known each other for quite some years. She also gathered that Mousesack wasn’t your normal royal – she could feel his magic tingling in the air, content and bright.

“I feared this would be a dull affair, but now the White Wolf is here perhaps not all is lost.” Mousesack exclaimed with a smile. “Why are you dressed like a sad silk trader?”

Geralt and Jaskier exchanged a knowing look while Mousesack’s eyes finally landed on the young blonde next to the Witcher. He did not size her up in appearance but examined her gaze intensely. “Yes, perhaps we are in for a rather exciting night indeed…” Yara’s eyes squinted out of curiosity and the slightest bit of suspicion, but she followed both Mousesack and Geralt as they walked amongst the crowd, speaking of the events that were to occur that evening.

“Forgive me, Geralt, but…” the shorter man’s eyes darted to Yara for only a moment in question.

“Do not worry, Mousesack, this girl has no interest in any of the dramatics that present themselves here. She is merely a travel companion on the way to Velhad.”

“Velhad, you say? What on earth is up there for you, my lady?” Mousesack asked inquisitively. He could feel her magic in the air, she could tell.

“The edge of the world.” The blonde responded, a small smirk playing on her lips.

Something caught Geralt’s eye before he grunted and strode away. Yara casually looked over to see a short, balding man with steam coming out of his ears jabbing his chubby little finger into Jaskier’s chest. She scoffed to herself and politely smiled to Mousesack before making her way towards the altercation. As she made it to Geralt’s side, fanfare erupted, and a booming voice broke through the hall.

“All rise for her majesty, The Lioness, Queen Calanthe of Cintra.”

A tall, dark haired woman dressed in armor, and covered in dirt and blood marched into the room with goblet in hand. Her eyes were wild and her voice was strong as she called to her subjects.

“Apologies noble sirs. A few upstart townsmen in the south needed reminding who was Queen. I find it’s good for one’s blood and humors.”

The room broke into laughter all around, but Yara couldn’t bring herself to take her eyes off of Calanthe to look at the amused guests. She’d never seen a woman quite like the queen before. Her braided hair was matted and messy from battle, her ungloved hands were filthy but strong. Brazen as she prowled into the middle of the room. _Truly_ , Yara thought, _she is aptly named ‘The Lioness.’_

“Ready your suitor’s tales of glory, good lords. My daughter is eager to have this over with. As am I.” She spat out and turned toward the princess seated at the royal table.

The blonde finally dragged her eyes away from the warrior queen to find Geralt looking at her seemingly expressionless. But she knew better. Yara pursed her lips, ignored his silent question and focused her attention on Jaskier’s now lively tune. For all that the bard annoyed Yara, she had to give him credit where credit was due. He had a lovely voice. The blonde took a moment to look around, watching as the crowd became more intoxicated making them rowdier. An argument broke out between the tall ginger man that Mousesack mentioned earlier was to be betrothed to the princess and a short feisty man that reminded Yara of a stubborn pony picking a fight with a clydesdale.

She glanced at Geralt to see him quietly smirk at the altercation. Even she could tell these men had never dealt with a real monster in their lives, and she smiled at Geralt’s enjoyment.

When the argument turned into a five-man pile on, a full voice cut through the commotion.

“Enough!” The queen yelled as she sauntered down the banquet hall steps. “We have a renowned guest here tonight.”

All eyes turned to Geralt and Yara felt him bristle.

“Perhaps he can declare which esteemed lord is telling the truth.” Calanthe questioned, lightly testing Geralt’s boundaries. There was a playfulness in her eyes.

The silver haired man’s eyes remained calm, but Yara could feel him still tensed. “Neither.” He uttered.

“Are you calling me a liar, old man?” The ginger dared, threateningly.

“The Butcher of Blaviken bleats utter nonsense.” The short pony-man chimed in behind him.

Yara turned back to face the queen to find that her eyes had already landed on the blonde. She did not look away as Yara caught her gaze, but kept her eyes fixated firmly. The blonde felt electricity shoot through her body, her heartbeat speeding ever so slightly, and she forced herself to turn and watch Geralt as he continued his debate with the young lords, though she didn’t really hear the words coming out of his mouth. Her mind’s eye was still watching the lioness.

Yara kept her eyes on Geralt as Calanthe prodded at him about slaying the elves at the edge of the world. Bringing her attention back to the queen seemed precarious somehow. It was best for everyone to think that the witcher had her attention and affections.

“Come Witcher. You and your… fair friend take a seat by my side while I change.”

Yara risked a glance at the lioness to find her eyes inquisitively boring holes into the blonde once more. Yara said nothing but followed Geralt up to the head banquet table as the queen retired herself out the hall to change, and the young woman felt a plethora of male eyes on her as she walked.

_____________________

Plenty of young men found their way up to the table while the hall waited for the queen’s return. Some were shy, looking up at Yara through their lashes, others were more brazen and crude. All eventually turned away when she did not respond to their advances, staring off toward the wall in boredom as though they were not talking to her at all.

Queen Calanthe eventually returned and sat on her throne, Geralt seated directly on her right, Yara seated to her left next to the princess. She attempted small conversation with _Pavetta_ , as she learned her name was, and the silver haired girl responded in small smiles and polite nods, seemingly constantly on the brink of tears. Poor girl wasn’t used to a conversation with someone that didn’t expect anything from her, and Yara felt for her. Being a woman in this world wasn’t easy. If it weren’t for magic, the blonde would be in a worse situation than her.

With lack of conversation on Yara’s end, she opened her ears a bit to hear the queen and Geralt’s exchange.

“Damn this cursed thing. I’d as soon see this night out in armor.” Calanthe protested as she tried to find a semi comfortable position in her corset and dress.

“As would I.”

“Indeed… Tell me how does a Witcher find himself at my daughter’s wedding feast?”

“I’m protecting the bard from vengeful royal cuckolds.”

The thought of Jaskier cuckolding caused Yara to giggle from her seat, and Pavetta looked with fear, as though she’d broken the last law of the underworld.

“And your friend, Witcher. Do you often bring your evening’s entertainment along to each event you attend?” The queen amusedly asked, sipping her wine.

“Yara is a travel companion. Nothing more.”

“Oh Witcher, you don’t expect me to believe that do you? A pretty little thing like that?”

The blonde felt heat rise in her cheeks, and Geralt chuckled to himself. “I’ve come to learn that Yara isn’t of… the male persuasion.”

The moment of pause was deafening, and the hair stood up on Yara’s neck. She risked another glance to her right, past the princess. The queen wore an amused smile on her face, her eyes still on Geralt and unreadable.

“Well, if it’s Pavetta she’s after you better start telling me she’s of a large kingdom and a giant fucking army.”

Geralt kept his eyes on Calanthe, but the blonde could feel his sight on her in his periphery. “I don’t think it’s Pavetta she's got her eye on.”

Yara sharply turned to face the plate in front of her right as the queen cast her gaze in the blonde’s direction. She pushed the meat around on her plate, not particularly hungry but wanting something to do with her hands.

“I need a moment of collection before the peacocking begins. Excuse me, Witcher.”

Calanthe slid her throne backwards, a loud grating sound accompanying. Yara gathered that the queen liked to take up as much space and sound as possible, and she wondered if she would be the same way on purpose if she were a man. As the brunette passed behind the table on her way toward the hall, Yara felt a hand lightly, but pointedly caress her shoulder. It was no mistake. The queen meant for her to follow.

Yara took a few deep breaths before excusing herself and heading toward the hallway Calanthe had just disappeared down a few moments earlier.

The noise decreased to a din as she made it further away from the feast. Her boots clopped lightly on the stone floor. The hallways were dark save for the few lit torches lining the walls. Yara’s walking slowed even more as she began to question whether or not the queen was _actually_ sending her a sign. Perhaps it was an accidental brush on her way passed. Based on the behavior she’d exhibited throughout the evening, the consequences for following the queen without being invited may be severe.

She began to turn on her heel and swiftly make her way back to the table when a firm hand wrapped itself around her arm and pushed her back against the castle wall. Adrenaline pumped through the blonde’s veins and she felt her pupils enlarge, encompassing each entire eye – a fun trick she’d used to terrify Jaskier over the past couple of weeks, but now involuntarily coming to her defense. Magic buzzed at her fingertips and she was about to take action when familiar brown eyes came into view. Calanthe. Yara’s eyes returned to normal, the crackle at her fingertips faded, and her breath froze in her throat. The younger woman could feel the heat radiating off the queen’s body as though it had magic of its own, and it seeped into her skin.

“Hello, friend of Geralt of Rivia,” she growled.

“Your Majesty,” Yara managed to croak out after a long pause.

She glanced at Yara’s fingertips. “You’re a mage? Yet all the mages I know of are only posted with kings after their training. How did you come to be tied with the Witcher?”

“I had no training. I knew I couldn’t make it to Velhad on my own, so I made the Witcher an offer.”

Calanthe pressed herself closer, the material of her dress almost touching the blonde’s own clothing. The heat intensified. “An offer of protection in exchange for…?” she all but purred.

“Assistance on his hunts.”

Calanthe backed away an inch or so and Yara took the much welcomed distance to breathe. “Ah,” she sighed tilting her head back and the blonde found it difficult to take her eyes off of the exposed skin of her neck. The mage almost leaned in to press her lips to it. Almost.

The queen turned her head toward the banquet hall, “what do you think of Pavetta?”

The question took Yara aback, but she answered honestly. “She’s lovely.”

Calanthe scoffed, eyes still lingering on the entrance to the hall. “The lords certainly think so. Poor girl. She’s got the blood of the lioness in her, but it doesn’t show. So very different from her mother. I can only imagine what the lord’s think of me in comparison.”

She slowly turned her pointed gaze back to meet the blonde, a dare in her eyes. “What about you, mage. What do you make of me?”

Any answer seemed risky. Yara raised her chin to look her directly in the eye and matter-of-factly state the truth. “I think you’re the strongest most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

This answer seemed to take the queen by surprise. Her lips stretched into a smile and for a moment she looked as though she may laugh. The younger woman thought she was poking fun at the answer until suddenly the queen’s eyes were heated, and she firmly pressed the length of her body into Yara’s, holding her against the cool stones of the wall. The blonde’s breath quickly picked up in pace and she noticed that the queen’s lips were so very close to hers. Calanthe’s breath swirled around her face. Yara felt one hand take purchase on her waist and the other slide around the back of her neck. The younger woman gasped, and her hands involuntarily clutched the fabric of the dress in front of her.

“Never before has something so exquisite and so _willing_ put itself in my path,” the queen whispered languidly against the blonde’s lips before claiming them with her own. The kiss was softer than Yara expected. A whimper resounded in the mage’s throat as the brunette pressed a muscly thigh in-between her legs. Calanthe released Yara’s lips and slid her own toward the blonde’s ear. “Very responsive, I see.”

She took Yara’s earlobe between her teeth and pulled. The mage cried out quietly and attempted to press further into the body in front of her, allowing the brunette just enough room to snake an arm around Yara’s waist and pull the blonde into her. The hand at Yara’s neck grasped a fistful of hair and pulled down so that they were eye to eye, their lips still perilously close. Calanthe inhaled deeply. “I will have you tonight,” she whispered, and the mage could feel her legs quiver.

Before Yara could properly regain her senses, the lioness released her hold and strutted down the hall toward the festivities. The blonde slid down the stone wall to a seat, taking a few moments to regain some semblance of normalcy before following her down the hall.

____________________

The night wore on as various knights and houses presented themselves to the queen and her daughter, proclaiming why _they_ should be allowed to impregnate Pavetta. Not even have her hand in marriage, Yara noticed. They simple discuss the potency of their “seed.” No wonder Pavetta seemed as though she may always cry.

Until a cursed knight broke in claiming Pavetta’s hand in the Law of Surprise, hell broke loose, and young Pavetta exhibited a display of raw powerful magic that even the blonde didn’t detect throughout the night.

By the time the event came to an end, there was more blood and mess than any other monster hunting journey Yara had been on with the Witcher. She was right to have been cautious when Geralt, Jaskier and herself walked through the door. She was honestly surprised that the three of them had all survived the evening.

Pavetta had left with her betrothed, Jaskier was “tending” to a woman who may have been cut by some glass from the shattered windows, and Geralt was quietly conversing with Mousesack about Pavetta’s child to whom he would someday be bound. Yara pitied Geralt. He didn’t want to attend this ball in the first place, and now he was tied to his own new path of destiny.

The blonde began to make her way toward the Witcher, knowing he’d want to leave this place as soon as possible when a Cintran guard who’d survived the bloodbath stepped into her path.

“Lady Yara.” He declared loudly, and she wondered if he thought she was hard of hearing or if he was under the impression that he is supposed to shout.

“Not really a _lady_ , but yes, that would be me.”

“Her Majesty, Queen Calanthe has requested your presence in her chamber.”

The mage pursed her lips. Considering how the night went, she assumed that she would be the _furthest_ thing from the queen’s mind. She took one last look at Geralt. He could survive on his own for one night.

“Lead the way.”

______________________________

Yara was led through a short maze of stone hallways before reaching two grand wooden doors, decorated with intricately cut iron patterns. The guard rapped on the door before swiftly turning on his heel to march down the hall and out of sight.

One of the doors creaked open and the blonde entered through it without hesitation.

As soon as she was through the door she was slammed back up against it, a hungry mouth consuming her own. This kiss felt nothing like the one from earlier in the evening. This kiss was hard and demanding. Hands took purchase on Yara’s hips and _squeezed_ , pulling her closer to the body in front of her. The smaller woman opened her mouth to take a breath and Calanthe took the opportunity to fully deepen the kiss, caressing Yara’s tongue with her own. Eventually they both broke for air, Yara’s head leaning back against the wooden door, Calanthe’s eyes still lingering on her lips.

“Took you long enough,” the queen jabbed, though the breathiness of her voice took away the edge.

Yara was about to respond with her own witty remark when she felt a strong hand sneaking its way down the back of her thigh until it reached her knee, pulling it up until she had one leg wrapped around the queen’s hip. The other hand began to wander – across the blonde’s neck, her clavicle, and eventually moving down to firmly brush her breasts through her bodice.

Yara bit her lip and sucked in air through her nose as she tightly closed her eyes. The queen certainly wasted no time in getting to the point. She opened her eyes to immediately meet Calanthe’s gaze and the brunette pressed herself a little harder into the mage. “Calanthe…” Yara moaned lightly. The brunette’s eyes darkened and she yanked the blonde’s leg pulling their hips more firmly together. Yara moaned louder

The one leg holding the blonde up began to wobble, and she grabbed onto Calanthe’s shoulders to keep from collapsing. A sultry voice sounded in her ear, “so eager… for me to take you to bed?”

The mage’s grip tightened on the brunette’s shoulders. “Yes,” she managed to whisper in response.

The sound of fabric ripping reached Yara’s ears and she realized that the front of her bodice had been _ripped_ from top to bottom. Calanthe released the leg at her hip, freeing both hands to shove the blonde’s now ribbed bodice down her arms and throw it to the far reaches of the room, leaving Yara’s chest exposed, the cool air of the room a pleasant contrast to the warmth of the body in front of her.

They both paused, eyes locked. It felt like the eye before the storm and Yara had never been more ready to be consumed by the chaos.

Calanthe shoved her back up against the door, kissing her with a bruising force. The blonde’s leg reached back up around the queen’s waist, and with the hand that wasn’t tugging on Yara’s hair, the brunette hoisted up the younger girl’s other leg pressing her firmly against the door with her hips. The blonde took the hint and wrapped both legs tightly around the queen’s waist. Again, Yara left the kiss gasping for air, but the queen didn’t stop. She began attacking the mage’s neck with a fervor that she hadn’t known existed before, marking the blonde as her own. Yara’s arms wrapped around the queen’s shoulders and her legs tightened their hold.

“Bed. Now.” Yara managed to whine, and the queen took the hint. Without any visible effort, Calanthe carried the younger woman across the floor and unceremoniously dropped her on the excessively large bed.

The brunette stood at the edge of the bed and reached one arm behind her back to slowly pull at the ribbon holding her dress in place, maintaining eye contact the entire time. The blonde licked her lips in anticipation. With the way Calanthe looked at her and the way this felt she may not be completely confident, but neither was she running. She had no desire to. She just wanted to lay here, and maybe would have indulged that want, if not for the fact that she was now sopping wet and aching, and the fact that the queen had released her entire dress and corset to the ground, standing in hall her glory.

“I think…” Calanthe purred as she began to crawl her way onto the bed, hovering over Yara, “you are far too clothed.”

Yara almost snorted at the cliché when she felt a hard bite at the juncture between her neck and her shoulders and strong hands gripping the hem of her skirt dragging it down her legs. She hissed at the pain from her neck but couldn’t deny the zing that it sent straight between her legs. The skirt was flung further than her bodice, but Yara couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when Calanthe was shoving her up to the top of the bed with a hungry look in her eye. The queen finally laid herself down on top of younger woman, and the skin on skin contact made the her sigh.

She brought her hands up to finally touch the goddess that was Queen Calanthe, but before she could make it to her destination, her arms were pinned above her head, and the brunette was looking at her with a feral smile. “Keep these up here,” she husked and brought her hands back down to give some much wanted attention to the blonde’s breasts, bringing the heat in-between Yara’s legs to an almost unbearable high.

Calanthe left so many bites across Yara’s collarbone and breasts that she was certain the entire area would be one giant bruise in the morning. She’d never been so feverously consumed by another, normally leading each encounter she had. But the queen was clearly determined to be the one in control, and the blonde couldn’t bring herself to care – normal bucking of authority be damned. The younger woman looked down her body to see Calanthe’s face perilously close to where she wanted it most, the brunette’s eyes nearly black with desire, wearing a smirk that sent Yara’s heartbeat through her chest.

Yara’s hands tightly gripped the pillows above her and yelped as Calanthe’s tongue ran firmly up the length of her slit. Her hips attempted to lift off of the bed in pleasurable agony, but the queen wrapped her arms around her legs and pinned her to the mattress. Calanthe’s grip tightened as she sped up her pacing. One of Yara’s hands left their position above her head and instinctively tangled themselves in brown locks, holding the queen as close to her as possible, and in response she felt a growl vibrate against her clit, sending shockwaves up her entire body. Calanthe wrapped her lips around Yara’s bud and began to suck, making the blonde go nearly out of her mind with pleasure. She couldn’t even feel the bed anymore against her skin, and yet she was hyper aware of every sensation upon her. She could taste the air on her lips, smell the arousal in the room. But the only thing her brain could really focus on was the sensation of the queen’s tongue, and occasionally teeth, on her.

With one more firm swipe of the Calanthe’s tongue, Yara saw a blinding white light as her chest arched off the bed and she cried out the queen’s name.

Before she could recover from what was probably one of her best orgasms ever, the brunette’s fingers were stroking aimlessly around her folds, and the older woman found her way back up the blonde’s body to kiss her fully and deeply. Yara moaned languidly into the kiss and brought her hands up to hold to Calanthe’s face as she reveled in the feeling of the queen’s tongue massaging her own.

A hard swipe of the lioness’ fingers and Yara gasped against her lips, the older of the two women wrapping her other arm around Yara’s back to lift the blonde’s body up into hers, and the brunette stroked her harder. Yara couldn’t believe that she was already so close when she had just come down from such a dramatic high, but she could feel that familiar coiling in the pit of her stomach that was only intensified by the queen biting and sucking on her bottom lip.

Yara gasped sharply as two fingers finally entered her, stroking her walls with determination, before curling and hitting a rough spot higher up. The blonde was breathing so fast, she thought she might faint from hyperventilation. She reached her hands up and around the queen’s back to anchor herself, her nails digging into surprisingly soft skin. A strangled moan worked its way out of her throat as a third finger was added, and with another curl of the queen’s fingers, Yara was coming again, screaming out like she never had before.

This time, Calanthe let her finish, watching her with a satisfied smirk as she now stroked the blonde’s belly lightly with her fingertips. The blonde desperately tried to regain her breath, blinking to try and get the tiny stars out of her vision.

Once she regained control in her limbs, Yara smirked and shakily crawled on top of Calanthe, biting her lip at the look in the brunette’s eyes. “Now it’s your turn,” she whispered, her hand slowly sliding down queen’s body, stopping for a moment to brush her thumb over a hip bone.

“Is it…?” The brunette asked languidly with a smile on her face, and Yara choked on her breath as a muscly thigh shot up between her legs and strong hands grabbed her ass, pushing her down harder onto it. With no choice, Yara’s hand halted its quest for glory to press into the mattress and keep her from collapsing. The blonde whimpered and buried her face in the queen’s neck as she struggled yet again to breathe.

“I wasn’t quite finished with you,” Calanthe purred in Yara’s ear. The younger woman shuddered, and her hips gyrated a little faster. “I want to fuck you so hard that you can’t walk properly tomorrow,” the queen growled a little louder. The blonde huffed hotly against the older woman’s neck and her hands clenched the sheets sporadically when Calanthe’s grip tightened and she pulled harder, adding to the friction of the movement. As the motions became faster, Yara bit down onto the queen’s shoulder and squeezed her eyes closed. She was so close again, but she didn’t feel like she could make it through this time.

“Come for me. Yara.” Calanthe commanded, and hearing her own name on the woman’s tongue pushed the blonde over the edge and she came with a silent scream, collapsing her weight entirely onto the brunette’s body. She sucked air into her burning lungs as she focused on bringing herself back down to earth.

With what energy she had, Yara gently shuffled herself onto her side, facing the queen. She took a quick catalogue of her body and found that it felt like it was entirely made of jelly. A giggle bubbled through her lips, and Calanthe looked at her amusedly. “What is so funny?”

Through her laughter, Yara whispered out, “I can’t feel my toes.” The vocal admission made it all the funnier and soon the blonde’s abdomen hurt from laughter. Calanthe smiled and wrapped an arm around the younger woman’s waist, and Yara contentedly laid her head on the queen’s shoulder.

The laughter soon subsided, her smile slowly faded, and her eyes dimmed as Yara felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. Now that the rush of lust had come to a lull, reality started to set in, and it sat heavy in her stomach.

The queen eyed her curiously. “What troubles you?”

The blonde sighed deeply, her eyes turning to face the ceiling. This had never been difficult for her before, and she didn’t understand why she felt this way now.

“This is the part where I usually take my leave…”

Silence. Yara did not turn to look at Calanthe. She waited to be ushered, or rather even _kicked_ out of bed. The queen no doubt liked to have everything happen on her terms. And it shouldn’t even really bother the younger woman. She’d had encounters of this nature before and she’d left those encounters wearing nothing but a smirk on her face.

“But you don’t want to.” The brunette voiced, answering the unspoken question of why leaving was a problem.

Yara didn’t answer, but bit her lip, eyes fluttering anywhere around the room but into the queen’s eyes. The rock in her stomach sunk deeper, and she shut her eyes.

“You know,” Calanthe’s voice soothed into the blonde’s ear, closer than it had been moments before, “I could tell you to stay.”

Blue eyes shot open, and Yara slowly, finally turned her face to meet the older woman’s gaze. A small smile threatened to spread across the mage’s lips, but she tried to keep all hopefulness off her face until she could verify what the queen meant.

“Tell me to stay?” The blonde whispered, fishing for more.

Calanthe shifted closer. “As queen, I could command it.”

Yara allowed herself to smile and allowed her head to rest on the brunette’s shoulder once more. “Well I suppose if the queen commands it. Who am I to oppose a royal order?”


End file.
